The Essay
by joethulhu
Summary: The year is 1820. A charismatic and young student is deliberating finishing his essay, when his young neighbor Enjolras suggests they take a walk so that he can rest his mind. Strictly book-based, but an alternate ending is included that fits in with the recent film.


Arnaud Merril sat at his desk, pen in hand. He needed to finish the essay he was writing, but he just wasn't sure how to go about it. The words eluded him. He knew what he wanted to say, the meaning he wanted to put on the paper... But not how to phrase it. He sighed, put down his pen, and leaned back in the old wooden chair. There was a knock on his door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Arnaud's neighbor stepped in. He was a year or two younger than Arnaud, but they were on good terms. Most of the others who lived in the small Paris suburb he inhabited were old widowers who had come out there for a retreat from the hustle and bustle of city life. When there's only one other person even remotely close to your age, you tend to get close to them. Arnaud and his neighbor, whose name was Enjolras Deveraux, often spent leisurely afternoons taking walks and discussing such things as the state of the world, school, or whatever girls they had seen in the Paris gardens the past few days.

"What are you working on?" Enjolras asked. "Schoolwork?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Arnaud stood and stretched, pacing around the room as he spoke. "My history teacher has assigned us an essay about the importance of the monarchy. Buonaparte's been out for five years and they're acting like he never existed."

"Do you think that's a good thing?"

"I'm not completely sure. I don't really pay attention to politics, but the king treats me and this country well. My teacher is convinced Buonaparte would have had us all rotting in the streets by this point, and I can't really say he's wrong."

"Well, maybe you should take a break from your writing. Let's take a walk."

Arnaud thought for a moment.

"I suppose I can spare an hour or so. Maybe the fresh air will reinvigorate me."

Enjolras stretched out his hand, and Arnaud took it. They navigated their way to the elegant garden near Arnaud's house. There was a small, not often-traveled road in the back of the garden that lead into the city and back out again. This was the usual location of Arnaud and Enjolras' many walks.

"What has your school been like recently, Enjolras?"

"Boring. All of the teachers have been assigned by the king, and they're all stuck-up old men with no passion. Plus they talk about the king as if he's God or something."

"He is the king. And the king is our ruler. We must treat him as such."

"I know, but sometimes it just gets to me."

"The king has treated you well and made your family prosperous. You can afford to go to a prestigious private school in the city. Back during the Empire, you probably would have been poor and going to a one-room schoolhouse in the country, with a bunch of uneducated simpletons as classmates. And if you were living during the Revolution, you would have been labeled a monarchist and sentenced to death. I can't see why we shouldn't be grateful to the king for saving us from those fates."

Enjolras was silent for a time, contemplating Arnaud's words. The path made its way into a shady forest, filled with the sounds of birds and other animals flitting around in the underbrush. This was Arnaud's favorite part of the walk. Enjolras seemed preoccupied. He halfheartedly kicked around pebbles, causing a few of the animals to scatter.

"Still thinking about the king, or is something else on your mind?"

"It's nothing."

"A girl?"

"No. I don't have time for that."

"You'll probably change your mind about that in a year or two."

"Maybe. But I'd rather not try and think about what I will be concerned with in a year or two. I'd much rather just focus on what I need to be doing now."

"I suppose that is one way to go about it, but shouldn't you be at least a little concerned with your future?"

Enjolras stopped walking and bent down to investigate an interesting-looking stone. Arnaud walked a few more steps forward, then stopped and turned to wait for his friend.

"Maybe I should be concerned. Maybe you're right. But I can't bring myself to be."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe you should try."

"Maybe."

"I, for one, am thinking about enlisting."

"In the army?"

"Probably not. Just the National Guard. It's a romantic thing to join the National Guard and protect your country and government, isn't it?"

Enjolras didn't respond. He dropped the stone and stood once more. Arnaud beckoned to him to continue on the walk, and he did so.

Shortly afterwards the path exited the forest and made its way into the outskirts of Paris proper. Paris was a bustling and happy city - or at least the part that Arnaud and Enjolras saw was. Parisian landmarks rose up in the distance. Arnaud felt a sweltering of national pride at the magnificence of the city.

"Paris is a wonderful place. We as Frenchmen are gifted to have such a splendid capital."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," said Enjolras. The spirit of the city was causing even him to feel more energetic. "I do enjoy the city."

"This is why we ought to be grateful to the king. Just look at this grandiosity." Arnaud stopped and closed his eyes. He took in a long breath of city air. "Even now I can feel it inspiring me."

A rumbling started in the distance. Enjolras gazed down the street their path ran alongside and saw a convoy of horse-drawn carts headed towards them. He and Arnaud stepped back slightly to allow them passage. As the carts swept by, Enjolras glanced at their contents. They were filled with wretched, starved beings that hardly bore a resemblance to humans as Enjolras understood them.

"What a horrid sight. Are they even human?"

"As difficult as it might seem, yes."

"Who are they?"

"Convicts. People who have committed crimes and been sentenced to whatever punishment the law deems necessary and appropriate."

"It must be terrible for them."

"Yes, they live in dark, damp cells with little food, and work all day with no reward. I imagine it's quite unpleasant."

"They sound like slaves."

"In a way, I suppose. But they are convicts, after all. You can't say they don't deserve it."

"I don't think any human deserves to be treated as a slave."

"There are some who think that. I am not one of them. In my mind, if you commit a crime worthy of imprisonment, you get what you deserve."

Another young man came running down the street, following the caravan. He stopped in front of Arnaud and Enjolras and gazed down the street. He turned and noticed the pair standing to the side.

"Enjolras. I didn't think I'd see you out and about."

"At the moment I don't have much better to do. What were you doing, chasing after those convicts?"

"I thought I recognized one of them. A man my father used to know. He was arrested two years ago for some petty offense - I can't recall what. I was hoping I would be able to ask him a question or two. As I said, I don't remember exactly what he did, but I am sure it did not warrant the sort of treatment that seemed evident there."

"Whatever he did," Arnaud interjected, "if the law decided he deserved that treatment then he did."

The student looked at Arnaud with a small amount of disdain.

"Whatever you say."

He turned and began to walk slowly away from the scene.

"I'll see you at school, Combeferre," Enjolras yelled after him. Combeferre waved his hand meekly in Enjolras' general direction.

From this point onward, the path wrapped back around to the suburb where Enjolras and Arnaud's houses were located. Back in the garden, the two had to part ways.

"Until next time, my brother," said Arnaud, extending his hand.

"Yes, indeed," said Enjolras, taking the hand and shaking is securely. "We are all brothers in this country."

"'We are all brothers'... I may just use that to end my essay."

"You're welcome," Enjolras said, a smile on his face.

Arnaud smiled back and Enjolras and turned to enter his residence.

Twelve years later, Enjolras and Combeferre were once more together. On a small barricade in the rue de la Chanvrerie, they were sacrificing their lives to make an attempt at a free France. It was during an attack that a significant event occurred between them. Most of the soldiers had been staved off, but the barricade was damaged. A fairly young artillery sergeant was loading a cannon. Enjolras aimed his carbine at him.

"What a pity!" cried Combeferre. "How hideous these bloodbaths are. I'm certain the death of kings will be the death of war. Enjolras, even you are aiming at that sergeant, but you are not looking at him. Just think, he may be a charming young man. He is intrepid, a thinker. Artillerymen tend to be well-educated. He must have a father, a mother, a family! In all likelihood he is in love. He can't be much older than yourself. In fact, he could be your brother."

There was a tense moment of silence. Enjolras' aim faltered, but he corrected it. The artilleryman finished loading the cannon and began to aim it.

"He is," said Enjolras.

"Yes," replied Combeferre, "and mine too. Please, let's not kill him."

"Leave me be. We must do what we must."

A tear rolled slowly down Enjolras' cheek as he pulled the trigger. The sergeant was propelled by the force of the bullet, spinning around, his arms flailing. He fell sideways onto the cannon, and lay there motionless. A stream of blood flowed from his back. The bullet had entered his chest and passed through his body.

He was dead.

**Alternate ending**

Arnaud stood at the front of the Guardsmen, watching Courfeyrac and Marius carry away the dead child Gavroche. It would be dishonorable to shoot while they were distracted by the body of one of their own.

Or maybe it was dishonorable to kill said body to begin with.

Either way it was his duty, and when Courfeyrac and Marius had suitably retreated behind the barricade, Arnaud stood.

"You at the barricade, listen to this..."


End file.
